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As she folded the phone and attached it to her weapons belt he moved to her side offering the coffee.“Morninʼ. Howʼs Ben?”
“Same old, same o...d. He just canʼt seem to face the day without...”“My uncle was that way. Drank himself to death. We all tried everything. Nothing worked.”“Before she died, Mom said Dad just started drinking out of the blue. No reason. It just got worse and worse. Thatʼs why she left him. I havenʼt had much luck either.”“Speaking of luck...” came a mature female voice from. I think hers was too.We had been at a cast party in the campus coffeehouse, playing a game called "Cyclops". The details of the game escape me; a lot of laughing and ass-slapping and tequila body-shots. My memory comes back walking the mile home just as the sun was coming up. Carla's room was closer to the front door than mine, so that's where our drunken bodies flopped.Even with all those blankets, Carla still slept in pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt. I got down to my boxers and climbed into. More

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